Lonesome Dove
by Wynngurl
Summary: A father is wrenched with grief as he is trying to process his daughter's death. Her betrothed is also hurting for her loss. She was taken and killed by orcs... or was she?
1. Grief

DISCLAIMER: I do not own LOTR. If anyone wants to give it to me, however, I shall gladly take it. My b'day is in July.  
  
NOTE: My name is Abby and I shall be your fanfiction writer for today, and hopefully for a while. To those of you who have read my other first chapter, I promise this one is much better, and I have an idea of where this is going to go. I love the idea! Also, it may not seem very "Lord of the Rings"-ish, yet, but please hang tight. Your favorite characters will come in soon. Please review! Enjoy!  
  
"I shall never see her again."  
  
An old man sat in his room, the air dank and dark. His great gray hair still had spots of black in it, but that was from the soot that came from his fireplace. His hands were not yet those that were crippled with years of work, yet they were callused and on their way to such an end. His face was deep with crinkles, long past laugh lines and even past those lines of worry that most parents seem to possess. These creases were from a much deeper hurt than worry, though the answer lied in his parenthood.  
  
"You shall, one day. I will, too."  
  
The second voice came from a young man with ratty brown curls and a chiseled chin. His expression was one of determination. He lived near the old man's dirty house, his own not being much better. However, he had worked hard for that home. He had built it with his own sweat and blood so that he could marry the girl he had loved since he'd met her. The father of this girl had required him to have a home and a job before her hand would be offered to him in marriage. The father sat before him now.  
  
"How could she have possibly been killed. She is my flesh and blood. Don't you think I would know in my heart when my own daughter is dead? I should, but it does not feel so. But... that—" he broke off, unable to speak.  
  
"Sir," the man kneeled down next to who had almost been his father-in-law, "I understand your pain. I cannot understand it either, but she is dead— You know she could not have survived after losing that much blood."  
  
"Yes, but—"  
  
"Sir! She is dead! The orcs took her when they raided the village! Her cloak was soaked in blood when we found it! She cannot come back!" The man was almost crying now as the father's face fell, in sudden realization that his daughter was dead.  
  
"You said we will see her again, though... What did you mean by that, Armir, if not that she is alive? You must have had hope."  
  
"I was only speaking to the afterlife, Sir. I am as sorry as you that she is gone. I loved her, and I had just finished building the house for her when... Well, I am sorry."  
  
The old man patted Armir's hand. As the young man left, with tears in his eyes and a dry sob in his throat, the father put his head in his hands.  
  
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And yet, she was not dead.  
  
The orcs had come to raid the town, yes, but she had not been taken by them. She had seen her chance to escape, and she had taken it. She knew that Armir was a good man, but she did not love him. He had been a close friend until his marriage proposal. Now...  
  
She had needed to escape. Armir had just left her home after telling her father of the completed house when the orcs had come. She knew that that would be her only chance to leave. So, she left.  
  
Her perfect plan soon turned into a nightmare as a small pack of orcs found her, traveling without an escort or even a horse. They seized the chance and attacked. She pulled her sword from her belt and defended herself. The sword had been her father's, but it had "mysteriously" gone missing in a previous year. Her practicing behind closed doors was to help her when the time came to protect herself. Now, it did its duty.  
  
She slashed right and left. The blade connected with orc flesh, tearing it loose from bodies. Blood splattered and teeth gnashed. She had little technique, but the sharp blade and pure, brute force were her friends.  
  
Soon, all of the orcs were dead.  
  
Looking at all of the carnage around her, she felt no urge to throw up. She felt nothing at all except happiness at being alive. She wiped the blade of the battered, old sword with her cloak, and then she thought of an idea.  
  
She took off her cloak. Slicing one of the orcs open, she spilt its blood on it, soaking it. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, she headed the way the larger group of orcs had gone. Finding their camp, she watched them from a distance. As soon as they left in the morning, she carefully arranged the cloak so searchers would believe her dead. Her careful messiness made it seem as if the cloak had been tossed carelessly on the ground.  
  
The blood was beginning to cry and crust on the cloak. This had been her plan since she had begun to formulate the idea. It would seem to the searchers that she had been wounded early on and finally killed. There would be no remains left, if the orcs were hungry.  
  
She wiped her hands off on her dress and picked up her small pack. It was a long road ahead of her, and she had no idea where it would lead. She just hoped it was somewhere better than from where she had come. 


	2. Travel

DISCLAIMER: Blah blah blah... I don't own it. *Sigh* NOTE: Hey to all of my reviewers I love you AlyEvenstar! You are reviewing one of my friend's stories, too: Rambling Thestral. She's great! I love the Tamora Pierce books, too! Everyone should read a really great story called: A Dream Come True, by: three amigas! They are awesome! I hope you enjoy my 'lovely' story. I promise some special characters will be joining soon... ^.^  
  
The travel had been long and rough. Gamine was tiring. She had no idea how long it had been since she had left her home on foot— it could have been weeks or months. She had managed to kill or hide from passing orcs since then. Her tattered dress had once been green, but it had now turned an ugly brown color. She had not been able to take a decent bath since she had left, for she knew she had to get wherever she was going soon.  
  
She decided to stop for the night in a village she came across. She had no clue where she was. She had avoided towns before, but she knew she needed to join civilization again so that she could be sure other people were real. Now, though, she decided to put the little money she had managed to steal before the orcs had reached them to good use.  
  
Gamine was about to enter the town when she thought of something, "A young woman traveling all by herself is just asking for trouble. How am I going to get out of this?"  
  
She turned around and headed back the way she had come. Once she reached the woods, she dropped to her knees and pulled out her sword. Soon, dark- blonde locks of hair were falling to the ground. Once she was done, she put her hands up to her head, where her hair now fell just past her ears.  
  
"This is better," she thought to herself.  
  
Pulling her small pack out again, she took out a loose shirt and a pair of pants much too large for her. She had no choice, though; she could not pretend to be male while wearing a dress. After pulling on the large clothing, she turned back towards the town.  
  
Gamine stopped at the first tavern she reached. There, she paid for a night's stay and warm water for a bath. She was led to her room by a brusque maid. Closing the door, Gamine sighed with happiness; she could finally have a real bath.  
  
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Armir sat in his home— the home that was supposed to be theirs...together. All hopes of that were gone now. He regretted it. However, he had to move on. Now that there had been a suitable time in which he had grieved his beloved, he was going to have to begin wooing another. He had to marry a girl soon before he was no longer wanted... At least, that is what his mother had told him.  
  
He did not wish to marry anyone else, though. He would rather die than go back on his love for Gamine. He remembered her sandy blonde hair and sparkling eyes, her pale skin and callused hands— they were beautiful hands to him. That was when he decided that he was not going to marry. He would leave his home and travel!  
  
This decision being made, Armir prepared for his journey.  
  
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Gamine had bought some new clothes from a small shop next to the tavern. These fit her much better than the ones she had taken from her father. Now, clean, she felt much better. She now sat on a stool in the ale house, drinking a mug of spirits. Their taste was sweet to her after only drinking muddy water for so long.  
  
Her cloak was pulled up, hiding her small smile as she heard a comical song, sung by two short men. She looked over to see that they were not actually Men, but hobbits, a race of beings her father had spoken of. Her smile disappeared as she remembered her father. She had left him to think her dead.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted as yells broke out near the hobbits. They were closely followed by complete silence. Many of the Men that had been enjoying the hobbits' song were now sidling away from them. Gamine sat up, and looked over. The hobbits were still the center of attention, but it was not the kind of attention that anyone would want. She noticed the other two hobbits, also standing in the middle of the circle. They moved quickly away, towards their rooms.  
  
Gamine noticed a cloaked figure like herself sweep after them. Making a split-second decision, she followed the figure. She came to the hobbits' room and placed her ear to the door. She heard muffled noises and then nothing. She listened intently, hoping the small beings had not come to harm. She did not know, nor did she care, why the Men in the tavern had been afraid of them.  
  
Finally, she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she opened it to find four small beds that were seemingly occupied. She went to the nearest one and found that there was no hobbit, but a pile of pillows underneath the blankets. She ran to the small window and saw the edge of a cloak sweep out of sight across the street.  
  
Gamine quickly exited the building and went to the tavern across the way. For some reason, she felt it was her duty to protect the halflings. When she reached the neighboring building, she found the room the hobbits had gone in, and she kept watch the whole night by that door. She only nodded to sleep once, but she quickly came awake again as she heard screams of rage from the tavern across the street— unnatural screams. As the black riders left the tavern, she shuddered, glad she was keeping watch over the small creatures inside the room at her back. 


	3. Acquaintances

DISCLAIMER: You know the drill...  
  
NOTE: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I had a few kinks to work out of this chapter (with the help of Rambling Thestral). I hope you enjoy. Please review!  
  
Morning had not dawned over the town when the door Gamine had been leaning on suddenly opened. She fell backwards into the doorway. Looking up, she saw the cloaked figure that had led the hobbits to safety the night before.  
  
"Who are you?" the figure asked.  
  
"I am a friend," she replied.  
  
"We shall see. Reveal yourself so I may know your face."  
  
"I shall not. You are as masked as I am, and I shall not be known without knowing."  
  
The man said nothing but only let her in to the room. There were the four hobbits, only a short distance behind him.  
  
"Strider?" asked one of them. "Who is this?"  
  
"We are about to discover the answer to your question. He was sitting right outside of this door throughout the night. I saw him as I kept watch." To Gamine he said, "What is your name, if you will not show us your face, and what was your business at our door in the night?"  
  
"Sir, my name is—" Gamine paused, in order to think of a name.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thomas, sir. I was at the door last night in order to keep watch over the hobbits."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"I was afraid you had wicked intentions when you followed the hobbits out of the tavern last night. I know now that you were only helping them, and I wish to do so as well." She looked at the man and then at the hobbits. "I know nothing of their troubles, yet I feel I must protect them— especially, this one..." she pointed to a hobbit with dark hair and a determined expression on his face.  
  
"How did you know that Mr. Frodo is the reason for our troubles?" asked another of the hobbits.  
  
"I did not, know that— Frodo, did you call him?— was the reason for your troubles, I just felt compelled to follow him and protect him.  
  
The man called Strider looked at her, or so she thought, for she could not see his eyes. "Are you a Ranger? You must be, for only Rangers and elves can feel things like that... You aren't an elf are you?"  
  
"I am neither elf nor Ranger, I am afraid. I am just a humble Man who wishes to help. Please, why is it that these halflings are running, and what is your interest in all of it?"  
  
"They are running because the black riders want something they have... Something Frodo has. As to my interest, I wish to see that Thing safely destroyed. We are to get to the place that a decision about It is going to be made."  
  
"I desire to come."  
  
"Fine, then. We have little time. We must leave before the sun is up, and there will be much traveling and little rest."  
  
"I am ready. I have already endured much, and I am prepared for more."  
  
Without another word, Strider opened the door and led the small troupe of beings out of the town and into the woods where they traveled for many days.  
  
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Gamine struggled to carry Frodo. Much had happened since they had left the town. The black riders had followed them and attacked them. Merry and Pippin, two of the hobbits, had tried to help keep Frodo safe, but they were too small, and they had no training.  
  
Gamine had stepped in just as Frodo was stabbed by one of the Nazgûl. His screams wrenched her heart, something that rarely happened. She pulled her sword out of her sheath and fought off what would have been Frodo's killing blow. Strider had jumped in to help, yelling at her to get Frodo to safety.  
  
She had not been able to even try at first, for the Nazgûl blocked her way. She swung her sword as forcefully as she could at the nearest one, but to little effect. Before she knew it, she had been slashed across the face with one of their swords.  
  
Her face still felt as if it were on fire. She had no idea how she had escaped the ring of black riders, nonetheless while pulling Frodo, but she had. She was now trying to drag him away from the battle, but she was not very strong. When all hope left her, she stumbled and fell. That was when she saw her— the beautiful lady on a white horse.  
  
Gamine closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
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She woke up in a strange bed in a strange place. She no longer wore the clothes she had bought in Bree, but a clean white shirt and pants. She panicked for a moment, not knowing where she was or if the hobbits were safe.  
  
"You are awake, I see," the lady said. "My name is Arwen."  
  
"I remember you!" Gamine said. "You were riding on a white horse... I don't remember coming here, though."  
  
"By the time I reached you, you had already collapsed. I brought you and the hobbit here, to Rivendell, so that you may be safe from the shadows that were chasing you and so that your wounds could be treated."  
  
"Is Frodo alright?"  
  
"He is fine, Lady, though he shall always feel a pain where he was stabbed— a wound like that never fully heals. Neither will yours, I am afraid."  
  
Gamine reached up to feel her face. There was a long slash across it, and it burned when she touched it. She pulled her hand away quickly, as she cringed in pain. She cringed again when she realized what Arwen had called her.  
  
"Arwen, you know who I really am?"  
  
"I know that you are not who you claim to be. To who you are, you are the only one that can reveal that secret, and you can only reveal your true self if you know who that person is. Do you?"  
  
"I am still learning— but Arwen, do the others know? Have you told them?"  
  
Arwen smiled. "Of course I haven't, dear one. I would not tell them something you took such care to hide."  
  
Gamin looked at the lady elf sitting on her bed, and she felt she had found a comrade. "My name is Gamine, but I am going by Thomas..." She looked into the deep dark eyes of her new friend and conveyed her thanks that way, since her words did not come to her.  
  
Arwen nodded and said, "You traveling companions are worried about you. Shall I let them in?"  
  
She went to the door and admitted Merry, Pippin, and Strider. Gamine sat up as they came and sat by her bed. Arwen smiled at her behind their backs and left the room quietly.  
  
"I hope you are feeling better, little friend."  
  
Gamine looked up to truly see Strider's face for the first time. "I am, Sir. Thank you."  
  
Strider looked at the deep cut that spanned the boy's face, but more so at the person beneath it. He liked what he saw. "Call me Aragorn."  
  
"Aragorn, then." The word sounded good to her— it sounded like a friend. 


	4. Small Scuffle in Hallway

DISCLAIMER: Blah, blah, blah...  
  
NOTE: Thanks to all of my reviewers! You are awesome! However, I would really like to have some more reviews! If I get at least five reviews on each chapter, I will post more often! I hope you enjoy the chapter— Bye!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Gamine was allowed out of bed the next day, to her great relief. She did not like to be cooped up, that was one of the reasons she had left in the first place— the position of "wife" did not suit her. Now, under the guise of "Tommy," she could move about with little interference. Gamine felt her new name suited her well.  
  
She pulled on her cloak and put up the hood to cover her scar as she headed to the room in which Frodo was staying. Once she reached his room, she knocked on the door and entered. Within the chamber, Frodo lay on his bed, pale and unmoving. Gamine rushed to his side in concern, but he popped up and asked:  
  
"Did I scare you?"  
  
Gamine almost strangled him with joy. "Yes, you did! Don't ever do that to me again, Frodo! If anything happened to you..."  
  
"I am find, Tommy. I am sorry I worried you. Merry and Pippin told me it would be a fantastic joke!"  
  
"They did, did they? And where are they now?"  
  
Frodo pointed to the corner where a large mass of sheets was quivering. Gamine smiled and snuck over to the lump. She went around to the back of it and motioned to Frodo. He smiled and ran over to the door which he opened and closed loudly. Then, he said, in the direction of the laughing heap:  
  
"She's gone!"  
  
The two mischievous hobbits threw off the sheets that had been covering them, preparing to gloat over their successful trick, but...  
  
"AAAARGH!" the two hobbits yelled in unison as Gamine grabbed them from behind.  
  
"Thought you could pull one over on me, did you? Well, you must except the consequences!" Gamine tickled them mercilessly.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Merry laughed hysterically. "We yield!"  
  
Gamine stopped, pink in the face, happiness spreading across it. The hobbits backed away for a moment, though.  
  
"What's wrong, friends?" she asked, worriedly.  
  
"Your face..." ventured Pippin. "What happened to your face?"  
  
Gamine realized that her cloak hood had fallen off. She quickly pulled it back up, stood up, and brushed herself off. "It is nothing," she said offhandedly, trying to distance herself from the question.  
  
"It is NOT nothing!" cried Frodo. To Merry and Pippin he said, "Tommy got that scar while he was protecting us! Aragorn told me!"  
  
"Traitor," Gamine murmured under her breath half-heartedly.  
  
After letting Frodo tell the story of how she had gotten her scar, Gamine left his room, hoping to go somewhere she could think. She knew she couldn't have hid the scar forever, but it was so ugly. But that didn't matter. She was going to have to be a man now, and men did not care about their looks.  
  
She was quickly corrected on this matter as she walked straight into a passing elf. She looked up to see that he was all with long, blonde hair and an expressionless face.  
  
"Excuse me," she said. "I was not paying attention."  
  
"Well, that is obvious!" the elf said snootily. "You have messed up my hair."  
  
Gamine could see nothing wrong with his hair until— There it was, a single strand out of place. She raised her eyebrow in disbelief at the vain elf in front of her, but he could not see her of course.  
  
"Your hair is fine in my sight, Lord..."  
  
"Legolas. And I am not a 'Lord,' I am a prince!"  
  
"Prince, huh? Well, that's nice." Gamine began walking away, but Legolas stopped her.  
  
"I did not dismiss you from my presence."  
  
"I did not need to be dismissed."  
  
"You would do well to honor your betters."  
  
Gamine was fairly hot under the collar by this point. Who was this 'prince' to order her around. "I see no betters anywhere near here!" she retorted.  
  
"You insult my honor? I challenge you to a fight, so that I may defend my honor from a little nothing like you! Show your face, so I may see my victim!"  
  
"And if I refuse to both?"  
  
"Then we will engage here instead of waiting to got to the courts."  
  
"I have no weapon."  
  
"Then hand to hand combat it shall be. I ask you once more, remove your hood!"  
  
"No."  
  
And so the fight began. Legolas attacked first, but Gamine blocked him. She did not go on the offensive, she only defended herself. Legolas seemed to think that meant that his opponent was weak, but she had a strategy. She learned his moves before she used them against him, and in order for her to do that she had to watch, not attack. When she thought she had learned his style, she moved forward.  
  
Gamine hooked her foot around Legolas' ankle, putting him off-balance. Then, she grabbed his right arm and helped him over her hip. The elf landed on both feet, as if he were a cat. Gamine, staring, was off guard when he attacked again. She saw him running at her, so she stepped aside, planning on letting him just run past, but he caught her arm and used it to stop the momentum he had produced for the attack.  
  
Gamine was pulled to the floor as Legolas fell. The elf was quicker to his feet, but Gamine grabbed him around the leg, and pulled him back down. She was just getting up, and Legolas was just about to pull her down again when Elrond interrupted them. He grabbed the back of each of their cloaks and held them apart.  
  
"What are you thinking of?" he asked the prince. "This boy is a guest in my home, and he was hurt on his way here. What cause could you produce to attack him?"  
  
"He would not remove his hood when he was ordered to," Legolas said.  
  
"That is no excuse, foolish one. You may be a prince, Legolas, but I question your judgement." Then, to Gamine: "Thomas, do not tangle with this headstrong elf. You may be younger than him, but I believe you to be wiser than him. Put that wisdom to use."  
  
With that, Elrond dropped the two beings' cloaks and left them. Gamine and Legolas stared at each other for a moment before turning and walking in separate directions. Little did each know that they were both fuming with the same anger and that they had the exact same thought as they turned away: Revenge. 


	5. Practical Jokes

DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned LOTR. The only character I can claim rights to is Gamine/Tommy. Oh well.  
  
NOTE: Here comes a little bit of fun. To all Legolas fans, I hope you understand that this is all in good fun. Enjoy and Review! Also, I have started a new fanfic for Ella Enchanted! Please read it!  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Gamine fumed all the way back to her room. Her trip out had not been as fun as she had thought it would be. She flopped down on her bed only to get up again. She paced the floor back and forth, hoping to come up with something to do to the egotistical prince.  
  
She stopped only when she saw herself in the mirror that was hanging up in her room. She was truly ugly. All she could see was the tremendous cut across her face and the horrible look upon seeing it. Gamine turned away, furious with herself.  
  
"I am just like him, to be so self-absorbed. Why can't I get over this whole thing. I should just leave now and not have to deal with that idiot!"  
  
But as she said these words, she knew them to be false, for she could never leave Frodo and the other hobbits— her charges. She had to protect them at all costs. They were the keys to the continuation of Middle Earth. She wasn't sure how they were, but they were.  
  
So, for the meantime, Gamine would have to deal with Legolas. Or... She grinned as she thought of how she could make his life miserable.  
  
Legolas was walking along, almost innocently, and enjoying the sun on his face... until a large bucket of mud was turned over directly above his head, that is. He wiped the wet, squelching filth from his eyes and looked up into the trees to see Tommy perched right above him, laughing. His hair drenched in mud now hung, sodden and disgusting. He made a very rude gesture at Tommy, and headed back to the building behind him.  
  
Gamine could not control her laughing, and she almost fell out of the tree.  
  
Gamine, with her hood up, was eating her dinner (a stew filled with meat and vegetables) when a large chunk of meat hit her in the eye. She looked up to see Legolas staring innocently at her.  
  
He said, "I did not do anything."  
  
Legolas woke up in the morning and stood to get dressed. He went to put his clothes on, but his normal gear was nowhere to be seen. He searched and searched all over his room, but all he could find to put on was a long, flowing, pink dress. There was nothing to it— he had to put it on if he wanted to leave his room.  
  
He growled with displeasure.  
  
Gamine was sleeping peacefully— until a loud noise woke her up. There was now a large flock of chickens running around her room, squawking their heads off. Gamine put the pillow over her head, but there was no use; it would not drown out the sound. Then, one particularly large chicken came and landed on her head.  
  
When she pushed the chicken off, it pecked her fingers.  
  
Legolas loved the sunset. He sat in a tree, watching it. When he returned to his room, though, he found the flock of chickens he had put in Tommy's room had been transferred. It was worse, though.  
  
The chickens had all laid eggs on his floor.  
  
Gamine walked out to the practice courts. By this point, she had learned to be on her guard. She watched all around her and where she was going. Just in time, she saw a string stretched out across the path in front of her. She followed it with her eyes. She was very glad she had not tripped the wire, for she would have ended up hanging upside down from a tree.  
  
She shook her head and laughed at her cleverness.  
  
Legolas was greatly displeased when Tommy failed to be caught in his trap. He was even more displeased when one of the hobbits was caught. It took him a great deal of time to get Merry down.  
  
He tried to think of something else to do to Tommy. It was difficult. He finally settled on a plan. It would really get Tommy back for all the things he had done— especially that pink dress.  
  
Gamine ate her breakfast quietly in a corner, not bothering anyone. After a bit, she began to feel strange. She stood up to leave, but Arwen stopped her.  
  
"Tommy, may I have a moment?" she asked.  
  
"Sure," replied Gamine, though she was beginning to feel very sick indeed.  
  
They walked back to the table Gamine had been sitting at. There, Arwen began talking.  
  
"I hated to see you sit over here all by your self. I decided to come and cheer you up. You do not look happy."  
  
"I am fine," said Gamine, determinedly.  
  
"Is something wrong?" asked Arwen, as her friend's face turned a deathly white.  
  
"No, no. Everything's just fine."  
  
But Gamine didn't hear Arwen's response, for her voice faded in and out. Her face became blurry at the edges, and Gamine became increasingly dizzy. She fell off her chair and knew no more.  
  
Gamine woke to voices over her. They were faint at first, but they became stronger to her ears as she woke up a little more. She kept her eyes closed, so she could get her bearings.  
  
"You should have stopped that childish game long before this!" said Elrond.  
  
"I know, Sir. I got carried away," replied Legolas.  
  
"It was foolish of you to want revenge so badly. This was not a harmless joke. What were you thinking when you poisoned his food?"  
  
"It was not meant to poison, Sir. It was only meant to make Tommy act foolishly... singing, dancing, and things of that nature."  
  
"Well, that was not its result. He will recover, but that was a very foolish thing to do. You both need to apologize to one another, whether you like it or not. When he wakes up, I expect you to be here."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Elrond left the room, but Legolas stayed. He sat in a chair by Gamine's bed. There he remained. Gamine refused to open her eyes. She did not want to talk to him.  
  
Finally, she gave up on him sleeping (not knowing that elves don't sleep like Men do), and she opened her eyes.  
  
They stared at each other for a few moments.  
  
"That was foolish of me," said Legolas.  
  
"It was foolish of us, you mean," replied Gamine.  
  
Legolas looked at his hands, and Gamine looked at her hands. Then, at the same moment, they looked up and said: "I'm sorry."  
  
They gaped at each other in surprise. Gamine, for once lost for words, nodded. Legolas nodded as well, stood up, and left the room.  
  
Gamine leaned back into her pillows. Their white fluffiness encased her. She was not sure what to make of the elf prince anymore. 


End file.
